The great hall shimmered with crystal chandeliers, silk banners, and whispers that trailed like smoke. Liora walked beside the steward, her posture steady despite the churn in her stomach. Every step echoed, as if the floor itself knew her secret and threatened to give it away.
She kept her eyes lowered, but when she glanced up, her breath froze.
Prince Kael stood at the far end of the hall, his back straight, eyes like steel. His dark hair fell over his shoulder, and his pale face betrayed nothing—not curiosity, not warmth, not malice.
But she knew.
That same calm… that same unreadable mask.
Her chest tightened. She gripped the hem of her gown until her knuckles whitened.
No. Breathe. Control yourself. You don't know him yet.
The steward bent toward her. "Your Highness will see you shortly, milady. Until then, I advise composure."
The words stung like a command.
A few courtiers glanced at her with polite smiles, some with curiosity. Liora caught one pair of eyes—a noblewoman with sharp eyes, full of judgment and suspicion. Her lips curved.
She's already watching me.
Later, in her assigned chamber, Liora's hands shook as she traced the embroidery on her sleeves. Her thoughts raced between fear and fury.
Why does he look like the man who left me to die?Why does this world echo my past life?Is this fate… or a trap?
Before she could spiral further, a soft knock broke the silence.
"Milady," the maid whispered. "The prince requests your presence at the moonlit promenade. It would be… unwise to refuse."
Liora's pulse thundered in her ears.
He knows. He must know.